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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479478">The One Game I Can't Stand To See You Play</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anorptron/pseuds/Anorptron'>Anorptron</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Yeah HQ Fic Exchange, fluff? if you really squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:40:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anorptron/pseuds/Anorptron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Beck!” Mara screams as her and Zed are knocked to the ground by their friend, and she sees him fall to the ground, and in that next nano, everything changes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beck &amp; Tron (Tron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The One Game I Can't Stand To See You Play</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazarusII/gifts">LazarusII</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here it is!!! I really hope you like it Laz!</p><p>Kilo is what i used for month, triple is a day and mili is 8 hours!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had all happened so quick, the guards had swarmed the garage, dividing them onto trains, sending them off the games. There hadn’t been an explanation past Paige telling them one of the batons from the garage was found at a scene the Renegade had been at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inwardly, Beck curses the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> where he left the fragged thing. Tron was never going to let that go, he knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been a triple ago, now the mechanics were in their own cells awaiting their turn on the arena floor. Several had already been sent, none had come back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, it’s time for the shift change, leaving the mechanics alone for a moment. He can hear a few programs still crying, a few talking amongst themselves, but the majority of them are silent, he wishes they would yell or scream, or do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to distract him from where he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no avoiding that more than half of them will die before the end of the triple. He’ll survive, and he’ll protect who he can, but there is no protecting everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After everyone is in an uneasy sleep cycle, a program in white approaches his cell. He knows this program. And she knows him too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The object was freedom, mechanic. You weren’t supposed to be captured again.” The siren tells him, crossing her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won once, I can do it again.” Beck tells her, rising to meet her at the cell door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises a brow and shakes her head. “In a fair fight, sure. But do you really think he’s going to let you win again?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winces at that, and concedes her point. “Solo or team?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her quick glance over her shoulder tells him they’re being watched, but her fingers tap her elbow three times. “You’ll just have to find out.” She turns to go to leave, but then turns back to him. “The goal is your survival.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that should be his goal, but it’s not. His goal is to save as many of his friends as he can, no matter the cost. They’re here because of him, he can at least do the courtesy of saving them.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>His body aches, the only reference he has to this pain is when Tesler had almost derezzed him early on into his run as the Renegade. It’s a user given miracle that he’s still standing, still wielding his disc, he’d like nothing more than to give into the overwhelming urge to </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut down</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he can’t. He has to protect his friends. His friends don’t know how to fight like he does, don’t know when to push an attack, or when to retreat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t stop them from gripping their disc close, some holding it across their chest, others actually throwing it, but their aim is clumsy, it’s reckless, it’s more of a hindrance than it is a help. Sure they were told that their discs have derezolution capabilities while they are in the ring, but do any of them truly grasp what it means to have that sort of power in their hands? To know that when their disc lands true, they take that program’s life, take their future, and their present from them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of them are prepared to live with that sort of consequence, none of them know what it takes, what it </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> takes to get out of the games alive. User’s, none of them know that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was in the games, that he is considered a victor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck blinks, and then blinks again as the colors and programs in front of him smear into a foggy collage of white and red. His vision all too quickly realigns itself, and with startling clarity, he sees Mara and Zed advance on a blackguard. A blackguard who, to anyone with training, </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span> gave up the ground to secure their confidence. “NO!” Beck shouts, and it takes him a second to realize it’s him speaking, since when did he sound so worn? So hoarse? “I told you to stay back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he yells, he runs forward, pushing all warnings and errors to the bottom of his priority queue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why wouldn’t they listen?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost in slow motion he sees the Blackguard deflect Mara’s disc and send his own towards her, and as Zed reaches across to shield her, there’s a minute flick of his wrist, and Beck knows a bomb is going their way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, all at once, time restarts, Beck slams into Mara and Zed, sending them stumbling, falling over, and the bomb attaches itself to Beck’s shoulder. He feels the piercing claws dig into his inner code and he stumbles over, and before he can even tell them to run, the beeping speeds up, ends, his vision goes white and he knows nothing more.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beck!” Mara screams as her and Zed are knocked to the ground by their friend, and she sees him fall to the ground, and in that next nano, everything changes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bomb explodes with a high pitched </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and when her vision clears from the flash, she sees Beck, but dear users, she almost wishes she hadn’t looked. Her friend is covered in his own voxels, and the bomb must have gone deep enough to puncture his cooling system, for the liquid code is starting to pool around him. Though, perhaps worst of all is the fact that he isn’t moving. She crawls forward to try and see better, but in the next nano, the entire arena is cloaked in black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are screams from the audience, rustling with movement as people start to hurry out, but those on the arena platform don’t scream. The blackguards leave the floor and enter back into the building while the mechanics are left stranded, confused, and afraid. Those who are left huddle close, a semi-circle beside Beck, and they don’t dock their discs. Nothing on the platform happens until a figure cloaked in white, slowly, calmly, walks onto the arena floor, and from what Mara can see, he seems to be staring up at where Tesler’s box is located.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really thought I was going to be a mechanic? You condemned that many beta’s on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hunch</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He hisses, fists clenched. His voice is startlingly clear; he must be wired into the system somehow. “Those programs fix your tanks, mend your mistakes, and you condemn them to death? For what? Because you found a baton that came from that garage? It’s Argon’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>biggest</span>
  </em>
  <span> garage! You want to have someone killed? Fine.” He spits. “Come try </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> on for size.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The renegade feels...different Mara thinks. He’s angrier, there aren’t any stupid (but funny) quips. He seems </span>
  <em>
    <span>off.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe another time, Renegade.” Tesler’s voice is fainter. “I believe you have some programs to try and save.” The orange circuits in the box grow fainter, till they disappear completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re retreating!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And the Renegade doesn’t pursue, instead, he’s already by their side. “All of you need to go, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zed speaks up from beside her, “Our friend, he’s hurt, he won’t be able to make it out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears a muffled grunt and then: “Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows Zed’s finger and sees the other mechanics part, revealing a Beck covered in cubes, with a face and torso covered in shrapnel, and from his left shoulder down, there is nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mara would swear on her life that she hears him gasp, and in an instant, he’s by Beck’s side, fingers hovering over his wound. His voice is tight as he asks: “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-he-” Users it’s all setting in. “He pushed us out of the way, and then next thing we knew was the bomb exploding!” Her voice is high by the end of it, a miracle it didn’t crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hovering hand curls into a fist. “I’ll get him to a hospital. The rest of you need to go. Now. Tesler won’t come after you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some leave, but Mara and Zed hesitate. “We’ll come with you. He’s our friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even spare them a glance. “No. You’ll only slow me down, and your friend doesn’t have that time to waste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, more gently the Mara would have thought possible, he scoops Beck into his arms and holds him close to his chest. “He’ll be safe. Now go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mara starts to step away, and it takes her tugging on Zed to get him to follow. “If he dies it’ll be your fault.” She hears him tell the Renegade and Mara gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he dies, then he died saving the people he cared about most.” And with that, the renegade disappears from their sight and takes all the hope they have with him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A groan escapes him before he fully recognizes that he’s awake, and the groan only causes more pain to course throughout his body, but then the pain dials back, and there’s a hand on his chest pinging him </span>
  <em>
    <span>/calm</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mara?” He croaks. “Zed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” A deep voice answers. “But they’re safe. So are the others.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tron</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hospital.” His mentor replies and doesn’t remove his hand. “The damage you sustained was too much for me to fix on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brow furrows. “Damage? What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s hesitation, and then a grating sigh. “Should have assumed you wouldn’t remember, the bomb went off far too close to your head. You shoved your friends out of the path of a bomb, it attached to your shoulder.” The hand moves to his right shoulder. “You got extremely lucky, Beck. If I hadn’t been there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck’s hand reaches up, there’s something cloth on his face, covering his eyes. “Tron. Why can’t I see? Why is everything dark?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron takes his hand, and pulls it down. “It’s temporary. Your eyes were open when it went off, they sustained damage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck subconsciously grips Tron’s hand tight. “What else is wrong with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mentor sighs, but doesn’t pull away. “I got you here in time for them to reconstruct your arm, but you won’t be able to use it for a while. It’s extremely fragile; I’d be prepared for lingering pain from it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost my arm?” Beck would give anything to see Tron right now, to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Tron answers bluntly, “There’s surrounding damage to your neck and body. You’re going to be off your feet for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He struggles to sit up. “No! These people need my help. Besides, I have a job, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron eases him back. “You can’t help them if you’re dead. Your job is nowhere as important as you healing.” His voice goes dark, “If they take issue with that I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>gladly</span>
  </em>
  <span> remind them that you are only hurt because of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small laugh escapes him. “I didn’t do it because they need to be grateful, Tron. It was the right thing to do.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck swears Tron’s hand grips him tighter. “You are too important to die in such a way. The grid needs you, not just your friends.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Beck could roll his eyes, he would. “They’re a part of the grid, I’m supposed to do whatever it takes to help them. I’d do the same for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Tron grunts, and Beck would bet he’s shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Balantanly, Beck changes the subject. “How long have I been out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About a full triple now. They had to keep you sedated while they worked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been here the entire time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Tron sigh. “Yes, Beck.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck squeezes his hand. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron grunts again and Beck fights a smile. Even blind, Tron is easy to read, but the smile fades as he remembers something. “How long have you been out of your chamber? You should get back before your scars start to hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Beck. Stop worrying.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>/comfort</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tron pings. “I’ll be staying here till I can take you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they say how long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You’ve only been out from the compilers for less than a mili. They were just glad that you made it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck swallows the tightness in his throat. “It was that bad?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a tightness to his voice that Beck’s never heard before. “If I hadn’t already been there, you would have derezzed in that arena.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terror grips him. He’s come close to derezzing, sure. But never </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>close. Tron’s kind enough to ignore the shake in his voice when he asks: “Are they going to come after us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>/comfort</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tron pings again. “Unlikely. He now knows the Renegade isn’t one of the mechanics, so I wouldn’t deem it probable that he would come after the garage again. For you personally, I think he assumes you derezzed at some point after, you weren’t in the best of conditions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck gives a small nod. “Were any of my friends hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exasperation is heavy in Tron’s voice. “They’re fine, Beck. Everything is okay. You don’t have to worry about any of that right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I have this under control, renegade. Let me handle it. You just need to heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck’s sigh gives way to a pout. “But I’m already bored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just rest.” Tron groans and then quietly, “I won’t leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, a yawn escapes him, and purposely on cue, he loosens his grip on Tron’s hand, letting his mentor know it’s okay to pull away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But yet he doesn’t, he hears a muffled, metallic scrape of a chair, and his hand is pulled closer to Tron’s warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I should say thank you, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rest</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Beck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for once, Beck listens.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beck loses track of the triples while in the hospital, he spends his time either asleep or making idle conversation with Tron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that Tron is still there surprises him most, and worries him. Tron had kept his word when he said he wouldn’t leave. The only time Tron hasn’t been by his side is when the medics come to check on him, and even then, Tron is closeby, watching, monitoring, </span>
  <em>
    <span>protecting</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Which also means Tron’s been away from the healing chamber too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally though, the patches are removed from his face, and for the first time in too long, he can see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The medics had thankfully anticipated his sensitivity to light for the lights in the room are on one of their lowest settings. They run him through a few basic tests, testing his vision before they clear him with a warning to avoid bright and flashing lights for a while. Gradual subjectation to brighter lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His arm however, was taking longer. Beck was assured it was normal, but it was beyond frustrating. A whole Kilocycle or more, they said he’d not be able to use it. The new code was still bonding to his core code, and it would be a while before it recognized it as his own, and allowed him to use it like before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had expected Tron to be upset, displeased that he wouldn’t be able to be the Renegade, but he had shown no signs of anger or annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I be annoyed?” In a rare display of emotion, he raises his brow in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck looks over to him. “Cause I can’t work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Understanding crosses his face. “You can still work, there’s more to a revolution than acts of violence,” Tron tells him. “There are still a lot of things I need to teach you, Beck, strategy is one of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck wrinkles his nose. “Sounds boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hint of a smile ghosts on Tron’s lips. “I thought being here was boring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron shakes his head, almost fondly. “I forget sometimes how short Beta’s attention spans are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Beck protests, reaching over to wack at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Effortlessly, Tron bats his hand away. “Careful Renegade, before you lose your other arm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, yeah. Can we go now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron sighs. “Yes, we can leave.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Kilo comes and goes and he’s finally allowed to take the sling off his arm. Or well, Tron takes it off his arm for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Tron supports his arm and unwinds the wrapping across his shoulder and left arm, revealing the new circuits beneath. “It seems to have healed well.” He murmurs, setting the wrappings to the side. “Try moving your fingers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment, but Beck can feel the nano that the code in his arm slots into his functions. Slowly, he curls his fingers into a fist, and releases it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleased, Tron gives him a nod. “Now your shoulder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gritting his teeth, in an expectation of pain, he gives it a small roll. The air leaves him in startling relief. “It works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Tron lets go of him. “You’ve lost a lot of muscle mass, we’ll have to work on building it back up. But it will take time.” He warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck sighs. “I know. But at least I can do stuff again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron inclines his head in agreement. “I still want you to take it easy until you’re adjusted. One misstep and you could be derezzed, and you’ve already come too close to that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww. You almost sound like you care.” Beck teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mentor sends him a glare, but doesn’t disagree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So since I’m healed, does this mean I can go back to the garage?” His head tilts in confusion when Tron tenses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t stop you if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tron crosses his arms over his chest. “Because Argon is getting more dangerous, especially for you, and I’m not always as close to the city as I was last time. What happens if this time something goes wrong, and I’m not there?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t want to see you killed, Beck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beck doesn’t even have the heart to tease, instead he hesitates a second, then takes a step forward. Then, slowly, he leans in and wraps his arms around Tron. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes to pull away, but then Tron surprises him by returning the hug. Sturdy arms tightening around him, unconsciously pinging him worry, fear, and protectiveness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s...nice. Beck decides, resting his head on Tron’s shoulder for a nano before pulling away. “Besides, you’ll always be there to get me out of trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not long after, Beck heads for the garage, leaving Tron to watch over the bike heading for Argon. “I hope so.” He murmurs to himself. “I really do.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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